Casanovak

by anonymous

The parking lot is full.

He drives around the mess of cars like his responsibilities.

There is only one thing on his mind.

That perfect piece of frybread.

The one he has seen the beauty of a million times and like if it had just walked past and smiled to him in a LLTC hallway.

He finds a good parking spot. Away from the dirty faced kids that has made the dust rise up as if it was the Daytona 500 and it was run on an old gravel road.

He gets out of his vehicle and the smell of campfire smoke and deep fried powwow food hits his nose harder than the kid at the Red Lake powwow playground did years ago.

The sound of the drum and singing makes him want to dance. If only his old beadwork wasn’t two sizes too small.

He walks around the powwow ring, seeing friends and has already shaken too many hands.

There is only one thing he is thinking about.

That perfect piece of frybread. The one he thinks about before he falls to sleep. Like as if it was singing at Monday drum and the midday sun was shining over mac flats, over the child care center, and into the Benny Tonce drum room windows only for it.

He swears he heard this frybread sing once before. It reminded him of hearing the first robin at the beginning of spring.

He continues walking around the powwow ring looking at the food stands. The food stand workers look at him bright eyed when they make eye contact. Knowing that big boy must be hungry.. He can only hope that’s the way the frybread will look at him like it has the few times they’ve met.

The emcee announces the host drum will sing a two-step, men’s choice, find your partners.

He picks up his pace around the ring. His heart starts racing but he’s overweight and he’s use to his heart beating fast at tines like this.

Then he sees her.

She’s walking towards him. Her hair is braided. She looks like a dusty Leech Lake powwow angel.

He imagines she smells the way powwow angels ought to smell. Like fried food in the fresh air and campfire, with a hint of sweetgrass.

Then it hits him like the ground did when he was pushed off the top of the playground at Big Grassy powwow when he was just a boy. Alone and trying to make new friends.

She’s hand in hand with another man.

His heart starts to slow.

He he makes his way back to his old Ford and opens up the back.

There lies his new outfit and beadwork.

To be continued…

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